4E 0
by countess z
Summary: What is the life of one mortal compared to thousands more? The Hero of Kvatch must ask herself this question, for Martin Septim has already resigned himself to the terrible destiny foretold by his dreams. It is the last hour of the Third Era, and the last stand against the forces of Oblivion. Companion piece to Dawn's Beauty.


**A/N: This started out as a _very_ short piece strictly intended as a reference for maximsk's prologue of his recently published "The Bridge Across the World," but it kept getting bigger... and bigger... and bigger, and turned into a sort of indulgent bit of closure for myself, and eventually I thought to publish it. It is an addendum to my ongoing story, Dawn's Beauty, told exclusively through the eyes of NPCs. Thus, Mona's POV does not belong there as a chapter, hence why I published this separately. If the final exchange does not make sense, I recommend reading chapter 12 of Dawn's Beauty. That is all. Thanks for reading!**

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 **Imperial City, Temple of the One**

 **31 Evening Star, 3E 433**

 **11:50 PM**

"The lock's busted," the Redguard hissed, pushing her back against the Temple's doors to keep them shut. The tepid interior was still rotten with the sulfuric scent of Oblivion.

"No matter. Lesser Daedra cannot enter consecrated ground." Martin's voice. Blinded by the fires raging outside, Mona's eyes were still adjusting to the unlit sanctuary. Dark green splotches clouded her vision, and she could not see him. The candles for the Old Life ceremony had melted into nothing more than dreugh wax dripping down the holders.

From beyond the Temple's walls came another terrible roar. The earth trembled as the Prince of Destruction strode in their direction, buildings crushing beneath his feet.

"But not greater Daedra," Mona said. Dread crept into her skin, made her hairs stand on end.

Martin chuckled darkly in confirmation. "Still no need for you to worry about a lock. Mehrunes Dagon isn't going to be polite enough to use the front door."

She tried to smile but all she could do was bite her lip.

As her vision cleared, Mona saw him standing beside the marble altar staring vaguely in her direction, an incomprehensible expression set into his features. Less than a week ago, when she had first beheld him donning the regal finery, the fur-trimmed robes dyed the deep purple of royalty she almost burst into tears at the sight of Martin Septim.

Burned into her mind was the Emperor Uriel Septim, brutally murdered an arm's reach away from Mona. With the same gentle blue eyes and reassuring smile that masked a deep and private suffering, Martin was truly the son of the late Emperor.

His hands were busy with the clasp of the Amulet of Kings around his neck.

Mona took an automatic step forward to aid him, then stopped, stunned as if struck by lightning as she remembered helping Uriel's old hands unfasten the Amulet's chain.

"Please," Martin said, his calmness twisting the knife already in her heart. "Come closer into the light. I want to see your face."

Mona removed her helmet. She walked towards him and looked upward, avoiding his eyes. Through the oculus of the domed ceiling above, all she could see was the fiery glow of the Oblivion sky, oozing slowly like magma.

The helmet slipped from her hands and clattered against the floor.

Mona bit her lower lip so hard that she tasted blood.

Despite the sweltering heat she was shivering. Or was that the ground shaking beneath her feet?

Her lungs burned. The tears pooled in her eyes, then streamed freely and relentlessly as soon as her gaze returned to Martin.

"Oh... oh, no..." she choked. "It is the same as your dream."

Martin closed the distance between them, gingerly brushing her tears away with his thumb. A sob escaped her, and she caught the hand that tried to comfort her, gripping it tight.

"I'm – not going to let you die. Not here, not now," Mona declared, squinting her eyes in a vain attempt to stem the flow of tears. Despite her crying, she stared fixedly at him.

"No, Mona." When Martin spoke her name, her entire body shuddered. "Everything has become apparent to me now. This is a destiny that cannot be rewritten. I go willingly –"

"But _I_ won't give you up willingly! Listen to me, Martin. There must be another way. I've accomplished things others claimed to be impossible. I _annihilated_ the Mythic Dawn and closed more gates than I can count on my fingers. I am the champion of _two_ Daedric princes! I _will_ find another way!"

Martin smiled, and the corners of his eyes creased. That only happened when his smile was genuine.

"You're always saving me..." he murmured. "You've been fighting an endless battle. Never in my life have I met someone more courageous than you. For all that you have done... I cannot even begin to express my gratitude. Mona... it's my turn now."

"I – just give me more time, Martin..." she pleaded.

"If more time exists somewhere, it is not mine to give."

The ground was trembling so violently that they were losing their footing. Mona wrapped one arm around Martin and the other around a pillar. Their eyes connected, unblinking.

"I never thought - never thought I could love someone," Mona blurted out. She continued with frantic speed. "Before I met you, I didn't... you know, my whole life – I thought... people were selfish, and the world was just so... terribly cruel, I grew up with the nobility, and... on the streets everyone is robbing and killing each other but the nobles are just as cutthroat, they do it all to survive. In order to watch out for myself, I've... I've told you the things I've done, Martin."

She realized she was losing the point she was trying to make. Yet Martin was still listening. He always listened to her.

"Things like love... compassion... I never could understand. I thought they were just soft notions for soft people with soft doughy hearts. But, but then I met you. I met Brother Martin, and that was everything... changed me... it wasn't about taking orders from the Blades anymore, it was about you." She paused between sobs to breathe. Her words were slippery, probably borderline incomprehensible, but If there was any chance at all she could express how she felt...

"Martin... you... in this short time I've come to love you so much... I thought you were this idealist fool, but you were so kind... put everyone's well-being before yourself, acting as if you alone had to shoulder the burden of all of Tamriel! I wanted to carry that burden, take all the pain away from you, and so I fought and I fought, but – but... your... terrible destiny... if only the Septim blood ran through my veins instead, I – I would-" her throat constricted, and she could speak no more.

The Amulet of Kings still in his hand, Martin embraced her tighter. The red diamond was pressed against her back. It was hard and cold. She hated it almost as much as she hated his impenetrable silence.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled as soon as she caught her breath. "I wish I knew how to say the things I feel, but it all comes out wrong."

"It was the most beautiful thing that has ever been said to me."

"I wish- I could have done more-"

"Mona. We met in the ruins of Kvatch. You know how much I lost on that terrible night, and the burden thrust upon me in the months to follow. When we were together, I was going through the worst time of my life. And yet... when I look back upon those days, I see the precious short time we spent among my happiest memories. If not for you, I would have already given up hope in the Chapel of Akatosh. You risked everything, gave me so much more than you realize, delivered _Tamriel_ from the jaws of Oblivion, and it is simply astonishing you do not see-"

The walls of the temple were crumbling. Mona lifted Spellbreaker to shield them from the white stone hailing down upon them.

"Promise me you won't chase after a ghost!" Martin shouted over the sound of debris hitting Dwemer metal. "Don't waste your life trying to bring me back! You will come to love others-"

"Never as much as I love you!" Mona shouted back.

Martin spoke directly into her ear.

"Listen to me. Many years ago, I loved a woman with all my heart. Because of me, she lost _everything_. I vowed never to love another again, but foolishly, selfishly, I couldn't stop myself from loving you. And... if in loving you, I am the catalyst of your demise... I cannot go in peace carrying that guilt. There is a powerful Illusion spell that can alter, even erase memories-"

Mona was disgusted at the mere suggestion.

"No! You were the most important thing that ever happened to me. I would rather die than forget you."

"Then live, and remember me. But live for yourself, and not for the memory of a clumsy priest you once loved. Promise me this."

"Martin, I..."

"Promise me!"

"I promise," she answered quietly, looking in his clear blue eyes one last time.

The ceiling had collapsed. A laugh resounded like the crackling of static magnified to earth-trembling proportions. Mehrunes Dagon towered over them, his shadow darkening the sudden light that had filtered into the ruins of the temple – Mona dared to glance up at the horned face of destruction. She never believed in unequivocal evil until this day, this moment that she saw not hatred twisting Dagon's face, but sadistic pleasure.

There was nothing up until now that she couldn't face, no monster she could not slay. But Dagon... all of her strength, her training, her expertise, even her weapons... everything that helped her to win every other battle, all of it was useless now.

Mona could do nothing. She had finally met a situation where she truly could do nothing.

Martin had been right. It was too late... too late for any other solution she might have dreamed up if they had more time.

And she had never felt anything more painfully soul-ripping than when Martin pulled himself away from her.

"Stand back. I would tell you not to watch what is about to transpire, but..."

Mona grimaced. "But you know I won't listen." Then, she thought of something as he stepped toward the altar. "What color is it today?"

Martin smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing again. "Cerulean," he answered without hesitation.

He was holding the Amulet by the chain, the stone swinging above the marble like a pendulum.

And then with all his strength he smashed the Amulet of Kings against the altar. The red diamond cracked. Mona felt intense gusts of wind from all directions, as if she were in the throes of a hurricane. The wind was so powerful she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground, and there was nothing left for her to grab for support. She was pinned against what remained of a broken pillar, eyes widening in horror.

A prismatic light wrapped around Martin, an aura undoubtedly Divine that lifted him from the ground. It was... strangely beautiful, and grotesque all the same. This was what he wanted, she tried to convince herself. All of his service to the Divines that he devoted his life to... this was what he truly wanted, in the end. To sacrifice himself if it meant saving the lives of others.

Why was she so afraid?

" _MARTIN!"_ she screamed. But he could not hear her any longer. That sound – for a moment she thought the earth was sundering in two, but it was his mortal body torn apart by the beams of light that shot out from him.

Gentle Brother Martin and everything he encompassed, everything she loved about him from his subtle humor to his kind eyes, how his palms sometimes sweated whenever they held hands, the odd sensations he associated with certain things, like how her name tasted like cream and he always knew the color of the day... all of it was being shredded, mutilated, burned away before her eyes so that he could become the vessel the gods needed him to be. The pain... she couldn't imagine what kind of excruciating pain he was in. Had the Divines no mercy? Mona turned her head to the side and vomited. At some point darkness overtook her. When she awoke, Brother Martin was gone. A radiant dragon with wings of flame had taken his place. Wondrous and terrifying.

Mona did not look away from Akatosh, and for a moment, the deity did look at her.

Akatosh, in his parting glance, told her she did not have to fight anymore.

It was his turn now, the dragon said without uttering a word, and Mona understood she was safe. Tamriel was safe.

Did any of it matter? Martin was gone. She was too tired to think about that.

But Mona could finally sleep.

Sleep until dawn arrived.


End file.
